


Chess and Churchmen

by Celesma



Category: Trigun
Genre: Canon - Anime, F/M, Theology
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-06
Updated: 2012-08-06
Packaged: 2018-01-03 08:14:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1068134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Celesma/pseuds/Celesma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wolfwood had never been very good at chess, especially against Millie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chess and Churchmen

**Author's Note:**

> This is an extremely old bit of fic I found floating around on my hard drive. It was actually intended to be part of a larger story that never really got off the ground. I've always found W/Mi really cute, but I rarely write anything for it, so I guess I owe the community some sort of contribution in that regard.

Wolfwood had never been very good at chess.

The priest especially dreaded playing against Millie. In addition to having beaten him (approximately, he wasn't sure) thirty-six times in a row, there was also the fact of _how_ she played. The big girl's every move was carefully premeditated, served as a means to a larger end; while Wolfwood played with a reckless abandon that defied long-term planning or rationalization. He acted without a moment's thought as to the reason why, which invariably got him checkmated by a victorious – but cheerful – Millie Thompson.

"I just don't get it," he said one afternoon, having conceded defeat in less than ten moves. "How did you get so good at this game, anyway?"

Millie smiled as she set the pieces back up. "Can't really say, Father. Guess I just lucked out in that department, huh?"

"Yeah," Wolfwood concurred. "Good Lord gave you looks _and_ a brain."

But something was still bothering him. He coughed once, apologetically. "Uh..."

"Yes?"

"Technically I'm a _bokushi,_ not a _shinpu."_

She looked at him for a moment, not understanding, until finally she gleaned just what he meant. She blushed furiously. "Ohmygosh! You mean to say you're not Catholic?"

"Sorry, honey. Protestant."

"H-how embarrassing... and here I thought the confessional – "

"Is for show," he interjected quickly. "People pay big to confess their transgressions, remove guilt from their shoulders." He shrugged noncommittally. "I figure, hey, if they want it that bad, why not give it to them? Every little bit helps when you're trying to keep the orphanage afloat."

She trained her wide, childlike eyes on him. "But do you think that's right, Sir, to capitalize on another's shame when you don't believe in confession yourself?"

He had heard this one many times before and was prepared for it.

"I don't think it much matters as long as the result is money for my kids," he said automatically. "It would be more evil, in fact, to sit back and do nothing for fear of committing a sin... while you're pondering the eternal consequences of your actions, they starve."

Thankfully, she didn't dispute him on that point. "It's that bad, huh?" Her eyes suddenly melted in teary, half-lidded compassion. "That's so horrible," she said, sniffling once; and before he could react, she reached into the pockets of her oversized jacket and produced a bag of coins, which she promptly proceeded to shove into his hands.

"I was going to buy some pudding with this, Mister Priest," she explained between sobs, "but it looks like you need it a lot more than I do."

He opened his mouth to say _thank you,_ when she suddenly added, in a maddeningly cheerfully voice:

"But really, I think you oughta be able to trust God enough that you don't feel obligated to pretend to be a cleric for Him."

_Well, damn._

The girl was not only sharp, but cheeky besides.

Perhaps that accounted for his preliminary advances towards her...


End file.
